


Demon of the North

by IsilmeLasgalen



Series: Kings of the seas [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, F/F, Gen, Ivar is a good king, M/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 11:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22968985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsilmeLasgalen/pseuds/IsilmeLasgalen
Summary: A demon can be far more deadly than a dragon.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Original Character(s), Daenerys Targaryen/Original Female Character(s), Ivar(Vikings)/Aethelred(Vikings), Sansa Stark/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Kings of the seas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855273
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. Daenerys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Game of Thrones or Vikings.
> 
>  _/old norse/_  
>  /Common tongue of westeros/

It had been years since Daenerys had seen her last and there she was before her, on a different continent standing by someone else's side...

***

The first time they had met Daenerys had been just a girl. She had been sold, abused and humiliated. A child about to bring another child into the world. The dothraki had made camp for the night when a group of strangers had approached them. They were as big as the dothraki men, dressed in black leather armor and armed to their teeth. Their faces were covered with scarves, to protect their skin maybe? Daenerys knew there were times when she still wished for such protection, especially when her new husband's people made fun of her blistered red skin. 

Drogo looked unhappy with their presence, said they should have gone to the city if trade is what they were looking for, at least that is what she understood. She still had to rely on Doreah to translate for her some of the words and those people spoke yet another tongue and had yet another translator of their own. It was only when they explained that they came from across the sea that Drogo agreed to let them travel with the khalasar to Vaes Dothrak, just before she was pulled away for the night. She could feel their eyes on her and wondered if it was because of her fair skin and hair or if they knew who she was.

She fought with her brother again that night before Drogo returned, he told her before he hit her that maybe he would take her back from Drogo and sell her to the new tribe instead. Since they had ships to travel the sea and her husband had yet to keep his promise of providing an army.

The had a few more days of travel before reaching the sacred city. She saw one of the strangers look at her face, she had told Drogo that she got dizzy and fell, he didn't look like he believed her. The strangers and her husband had been negotiating trade when it happened so at least they didn't think it was him.

Four of them had been given horses to ride, they were still watching her, the one who had noticed the bruise more intently than the others. There was something different about those eyes but she didn't dare get close enough to see what. Somehow the warrior ended up riding between her and her brother, maybe he knew who had hurt her after all. Maybe he had heard or seen something. Or maybe Viserys had already approached them just like he said he would. After a couple days of travel she noticed the warrior sneaking water to one of the older slaves. She decided if it got worse she would find a way to stop the khalasar, give the people a chance to rest... It was then that Viserys got to her again. By the time the stranger found her everything was over and Daenerys was on her horse, her bodyguard having settled the situation, but the warrior never took his eyes off of Viserys for the rest of the ride to the city.

Vaes Dothrak was large and very empty. The stallion heart was disgusting but it made her husband happy that she ate it all. Daenerys had had little love in her life and it had all been taken away, maybe what she had with Drogo could never be the same kind of love as in the tales she once read as a child but she could be happy. The strangers seemed fascinated with the rituals and way of life of the dothraki. Though she had a couple times caught a few of them turn their heads away, the bloodthirst of her new people didn't seem to bring the same disgust in them as she was sure it would in most westrosi. It made her wonder where they were from. 

The weird eyed stranger took to standing close to her husband for the next week. Maybe being in the city had made it seem like she was safer but Viserys got to her again. In fear and anger she told him if he ever touched her again it would be the last time he had hands. And she wasn't even sure if it would be Drogo or the Stranger who would first tire of his attitude. The strangers spend most of their days trading but in the evening their leaders attended the feasts, though they didn't eat. Daenerys just assumed they were not fond of horse meat and were happy to eat their own supplies. She couldn't tell if the guide looked more terrified of the stranger or of her husband and wondered if the pang in her heart that she felt at their closeness was jealousy at someone else spending what appeared like more time with her husband than she did. She felt safer studying the stranger while he was standing next to Drogo and found herself taking in his appearance for the first time. He was tall and lean and obviously a warrior considering the number of weapons they all left at the entrance of the city. The shoulders were wrapped in layers and the waist a little more defined than on most men. He was also the shortest of the leaders, so maybe he was still growing. The eyes though, made chills break over her spine. Most of the strangers had blue eyes, bright and sparkly like they could look into your soul. But this one, this one... maybe this one had dragon blood too, maybe that was what drew him to her. Dark ink clouds swam where only white should be and the blue, the blue was so bright it looked as if the light of the full moon was trapped inside. 

It was at yet another party in her honor that Viserys found it wise to draw a sword and threaten her in front of everyone. She saw Dragon Eyes whisper something to her husband that made the guide's face drain of blood as he translated. Later as she watched her brother burn and the gold harden on his head she felt free for the first time in her life. Dragon Eyes was looking at the corpse with his head tilted. All of them looked as if they had truly been curious to see if the fire would in fact burn Viserys. Maybe her idiot of a brother had boasted about being the dragon to them as well or maybe they worked for the usurper and got what they wanted all along. What she knew for sure was that while it was Drogo that poured that gold on Viserys she knew she truly owed her freedom to the stranger. She would not let that go to waste, Viserys might have been no dragon but Daenerys was going to sit on the Iron Throne one day.

She spoke with Dragon Eyes only once before they left. There was a commotion in front of her hut, the stranger wanted to talk to her alone, her maid explained, but the bodyguards refused to allow it. It took Drogo showing up for things to settle. Dragon Eyes hissed something before grabbing her husband's hand and bringing it to his crotch. Drogo's laugh was so loud it startled even the bloodriders at his sides as he stepped out of the way.

It was only once they were completely alone in the hut that she realized why her husband found the situation so amusing. For the first time she saw the foreigner removing the scarf covering his face. It turned out it was not a him at all. Her skin was creamy and flawless, it did not surprise Daenerys she had chosen to protect it from the harsh sun of the Dothraki Sea. Her hair was shaved on the sides and braided in a complicated pattern that showed her scalp in places, midnight black falling almost to her waist once freed from the scarf. Her cheekbones and jaw were strong and her lips full and pink and soft looking. Her eyes sparkled in the dark of the hut. She was, Daenerys thought, the most beautiful being she had yet seen. She smirked at the shocked look on her face. 

/Ran./

/Ran?/

The female warrior gestured towards Daenerys and then again to herself? Where in Westeros did they allow women to fight?

/Daenerys- Ran./

Her name, her name was Ran. Strange name for a strange woman. Ran pulled something out from her thick fingerless glove and stepped closer. Daenerys couldn't help but flinch at the sight of the thin, metal knife with a ring on the hilt. She knew that harming her now would mean that Ran and her people would never leave alive but it was hard to change instincts she had her whole life. Her hand was gripped in callused fingers before she could move away and squeezed around the ring of the dagger.

_/Fight. Be strong./_

She turned Daenerys around, her back against the strong body of the warrior, and guided her hands through stabbing and slashing motions. She wanted Daenerys to know how to use the knife? She asked but Ran didn't understand her, she asked again in Valyrian and again in the Common Tongue but the only answer she got was Ran repeating the same words again. Could it be that Ran didn't understand any of those tongues? She didn't get to ask more before the scarf was replaced and the stranger gone as if she had not been there at all. Her steps soft and silent and her dagger left behind before Daenerys even turned around. By the time she ran out Ran was on her horse and her people already leaving with horses and slaves.

She would remember for a long time that Ran had been a leader to her people and a warrior too and had wanted Daenerys to know how to fight. She would always keep the knife close. It would be a long time before the Khalessi saw Ran again. She'd have lost her husband, her child and most of the khalasar. She would have three little dragons instead.

***

Daenerys was tired, hungry and thirsty when she stepped into Qarth. She was sure she had never looked nor felt worse in her life. Her people, the few who had stayed, looked about to pass out and her baby dragons were so hungry that they had stopped screeching for food. She tried to pretend that she knew what she was doing but she had never felt so lost. She and Viserys had been on the run and poor but there had always been someone willing to helps them on the off chance of being on the good side of the rulers of Westeros one day. Now she needed shelter and food and an army and ships... and no one seemed in a hurry to give any of them to her. The king of Qarth, or one of them anyway, gestured for her to follow him when someone grabbed her wrist from behind. Despite their sorry state she saw the dothraki prepare to defend her. Jorah just stared at whoever it was that was brave enough to do that.

/Daenerys./

She recognized that voice. How could she not? It was in her head as she demanded Drogo treat the slaves better. In her head when she told him she wanted to sit on the Iron Throne. She heard it as she lost her child and killed her husband. It gave her strength when she walked into the funeral pyre with only faith in herself that she would also come out. The words she never managed to figure out but had haunted her ever since. Because women could fight, could lead. Could be strong and be respected by their people. Ran had taught her that far better with words in a tongue Deanerys did not know than Jorah had managed in one Daenerys spoke her whole life. Because Ran was proof that it was true.

/Ran.../

/Come./

She was even more beautiful than she remembered. She looked older, thought as she took her in Daenerys realized that despite her height and the respect the other warriors had shown her the previous time they met Ran could not possibly be older than her. Even younger maybe, she had not been able to tell in the dark hut of Vaes Dothrak. There was a fullness to her cheeks, a softness to her skin. Though now Daenerys could spot a few scars, faint and thin. One under her chin, on the left side, another on her collar bone, on the right... She wasn't dressed like the people who greeted them, it was definitely not a dress either. The black leather was tighter and without the large scarves wrapped around her face and shoulders it was clear that they hugged a female figure. Maybe Ran was so young her body had not finished changing the last time they met, or growing taller.

/House. Food. Rest./

The king was watching them, he looked unhappy. Maybe Ran had lied and they were not from across the sea, maybe she was from this city with it's weird people and weird customs and not supposed to talk to them at all. Her common tongue was stilted and broken like she could not quite wrap her tongue around it though and people in this city appeared to speak it well. She was still lost in her own head when she noticed others dressed the same way had come and gathered behind Ran.

/King Xaro. I take with me. _I will take her with me. Keep her safe while she rests._ _/_

/She says she will keep the Khalessi safe until she recovers, my lord./

She could feel her own eyes widen as she looked at the other female warrior that spoke. The king glared but relented, leaving them alone with Ran to be led through the strange city to a quiet large house. Her people were taken a different way, and Ran disappeared as well. Doreah and her were shown by the female warrior to a room and left alone. Her handmaiden had already started drawing her a bath as everything needed was already there, when the woman returned with food and wine. An older male with a long blonde braid and eyes almost as bright as Ran's bought her dragons and put their cages by the window. He didn't pay any attention to her standing naked in the middle of the room. The female warrior remained behind.

/I know you./

/I am one of the slaves your husband sold to the vikings. My name is Irel./

Daenerys remembered her as one of the slaves who had been nice to her. She had seemed to know Daenerys had as little choice in going with the dothraki as she had. She didn't look frightened anymore though, and seemed almost happy to see Daenerys again even after her husband enslaved and sold her.

/And you fight for them? After you had been sold to them like a horse!?/

/Being sold like a horse might be the best thing that had ever happened to me. My father was a slave, my mother a slave, and I was lucky enough growing up that our master's daughter was my age. I was mostly supposed to care for her and she had been kind. The dothraki killed them and took us. They were not as kind as our former masters and my parents were old, they didn't last long. I was a virgin, when they got me... Then they sold me to Ran's people. She freed me, made me strong. I fight for her./

Irel was pretty and young, Daenerys didn't want to imagine what her people did to her. Because they were her people now and everything they did reflected on her as well. They stayed silent as Doreah and Irel helped her wash, she wondered if the former slave had been ordered to help or if she volunteered. When she stepped out of the water they wrapped her up in what must have been a sheet, she had no other clothes, she realized, but what she had been wearing. She continued to watch Irel and started eating as Doreah washed herself. There was not much food but it was good and Daenerys was aware it could not be cheap to feed all of them. They were not many, but not few either. Daenerys knew she had no friends in Westeros, why were those people helping her? Irel was watching her dragons with wonder when she addressed her again.

/Did they free everyone?/

/No. She wanted me to teach her./

/What could a slave teach a merchant?/

/Our tongue. My village spoke the common tongue and she wanted to learn it. She speaks the tongues of many people./

It made sense for a merchant to not want to rely on someone else to translate every time she struck a deal. The common tongue was spoken all over Westeros and Essos. At least by the nobles, the rich and the powerful. And it seems their servants and slaves. Not that most tongues were very different, Daenerys found most tongues of Essos similar and didn't imagine it was much different in Westeros. She remembered though, how difficult learning dothraki had been and she had been surrounded by people who spoke it. Irel said Ran spoke many tongues, she wondered just what number many was. She spied the black leather and complicated hair braids Irel wore, trying to recall all the people of Westeros her brother told her about but couldn't place them. Who didn't speak the common tongue? Her brother had never mentioned any vikings, of that she was sure. They wore black leather so she could at least start looking for an answer from somewhere.

/Where are those vikings from, Irel? Are they from Bear Island? Or Ironborn? Northman?/

She finished eating just as Doreah started and went to free her children. Irel was wary but didn't seem scared as Daenerys gave them bits of fried meat. She took her time to think before she answered as if unsure what she was allowed to say.

/They are northman, khalessi, but not of Westeros nor are they allied with any house there. I do not believe they have yet sailed to Westeros though they have recently learned of it. They are from the East, not the West./

If not of Essos and not of Westeros where were they from? She was vaguely aware there were other lands but had never given thought to who inhabited them. Were they large lands, small islands? Were they all traders, all warriors? Did they have an army? A king? A struggle for power of their own? What would they want with someone like her who had nothing anymore?

/Why help me then, if not to have me in their debt?/

/I believe it was because she could... And you are beautiful, khalessi./

Ran was a girl, what would her beauty have to do with anything? Maybe she had sisters and Daenerys reminded her of them. A girl who could fight, lead and free slaves. Who was allowed to learn whatever she wanted. Or maybe she didn't need to be allowed anything and was simply free to do as she liked. As a child Daenerys had never even dared dream of such things. 

/She is strange./

/No one will deny that./

/And the man who bought my dragons? He wasn't afraid of them./

She had never seen his face last time but she thought he was one of the other leaders.

/Bjorn Ironside, King of Norway. You will find, khalessi, vikings are not afraid of much. And some, of nothing./

A king? Leaving his lands to trade? He was close to Ran, she remembered. Maybe he was her husband and that was why she could do as she wanted, she was a queen. But he was so old... Maybe Daenerys had been the lucky one after all, to marry Drogo.

/Is Ran his wife?/

Irel looked shocked at her question and opened he mouth to answer before closing it again. She moved her hands nervously together as if unsure what to say. Maybe there were things she was not supposed to talk of, after all they would want to keep much knowledge of their lands safe from outsiders. If Bjorn was indeed a king and Irel part of his army, speaking of what she was not supposed to could be seen as treason.

/She is not./

/His daughter? Sister?/

/No... I will leave you to rest./

The subject made her uncomfortable it seemed and she hurried out of the room.

***

Daenerys was sleeping with her dragons around her when Doreah shook her awake. Ran was at the door, a beautiful turquoise dress over her arm.

/Good morning./

/It is morning?/

/You very tired. This for you./

She spoke slowly, chose her words carefully. The dress was the finest silk and looked like it cost a fortune. Ran's people were not poor. She remembered the gold they paid to Drogo, but that did not mean Ran herself was rich. Maybe Ran was Bjorn's mistress and that was why Irel refused to speak of it.

/This is beautiful. It looks expensive./

/Xaro want trade. Power. We value. You dragons. He give free./

Ran had a beautiful smile but there was something about her that made Daenerys wary. Ran sat on the bed and started petting and scratching the baby dragons on their bellies as Doreah helped her dress. She laughed when Viserion puffed smoke at her and picked him up by the back of his neck like an unruly kitten. Daenerys had never seen anyone treat them in such a way, the only reason she was not afraid of the day they will start breathing fire was because she knew it would not harm her.

/How are my people?/

/Sleep./

/You have been here long?/

/Month. Bjorn says leave soon./

Daenerys thought about asking for ships but knew if they were to give her any they would have offered already. They clearly didn't care about the war in Westeros and she had nothing to pay them with if they were to sell. Drogon and Rhaegal were climbing on Ran, using her sturdy leather clothes to dig their claws in until they settles on her shoulders. Her hair was free and brushed to one side and Rhaegal hid under it like he was trying to blend in. Viserion still looked like a scolded kitten.

/You are not afraid of my dragons. Do you have dragons in your lands? Irel said they are far away./

/They little. We have story, old. Lands many day at sea. Weeks./

Legends. At least that was what Daenerys thought she meant. Ran offered her a hand and she took it. She was wearing no gloves and Daenerys could feel every callus and blade nick as she was led through a common room to a balcony. Ran's people looked at her like she was their enemy, glaring. Almost half of them were women, all wearing weapons.

/Are all of your women allowed to fight?/

/Free women. Yes./

So not all of them were free. What did that mean? Not married? Nobles? Free women, not something Daenerys thought she could get used to. They belonged to men, her brother told her since she was a child. They did what men said, married who men wanted. It felt like centuries ago that conversation. She had people now that followed her. Men that followed her. She looked over Qarth... a future ahead of her.

/Drogo where? Little... you?/

Little you?... Ran gestured to her belly. Child, she meant child. Daenerys tried not to let tears come.

/They are dead. All I have is what I came here with./

Ran bought her close again, back to chest as she had the last time and whispered in her ear.

/Come me home. You happy. I can./

A hand came close to her breast and Daenerys spluttered. Just what kinds of lands was Ran from!? Not even Doreah, who had taught her how to please Drogo, had mentioned such things could happen between women. She breathed in deep and stepped away. She could see Ran loose her smile, her face sadden. Her answer was read on her face before the words were out.

/I can't./

/Stay if want. Careful. People here use. Want power. Lie. Cheat. Not help./

She felt herself glare at the pitying look on the warrior's face. The same anger and fire that ate at her soul at the gates returned just as strong and at her rage her dragons flew from Ran to her as if not willing to be in her line of fire.

/Nothing will stay in my way! Not Qarth, not you! I am Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen and I will sit on the Iron Throne!/

It was her birthright, the Seven Kingdoms belonged to her and no one else and she would get them. Ran left her there, said nothing else, and for two days before the vikings left Daenerys didn't see her again. During her last days in Qarth she would remember Ran's words. She hadn't been careful and she had ended up used. She should have listened and she would not forget again.

***

The next time they met was in Astapor. Daenerys was sitting on the wall of the city, thinking of the choice ahead of her. The day had not gone as she had expected, she thought after the way dothraki treated their slaves no cruelty would surprise her anymore. She had been wrong.

/Daenerys... The fates bring us together again./

/Ran./

Her cheeks were thinner and her hair one thick braid even longer than before. There were black lines around her eyes and it made her look even more fierce. A scar on her cheek that was old but not fully healed. Viserion flew right at her. She was still not afraid of him, petting his head as soon as he was within reach. Drogon and Rhaegal were rubbing themselves on her legs. Maybe to her they really were cats.

/You are the other buyers./

/Not anymore. We leave in the morning./

/You speak well./

/Thank you./

_/Fight. Be strong./_

/Fight. Be strong./

She stepped away from her children to stand by her side, overlooking the sea. Her eyes were as bright as the moon. Whatever had made her mad the last time they met seemed to have passed and she smiled at Daenerys.

/Why did you change your mind?/

/We are hard people, our lands are unforgiving so we learned to be unforgiving... We live in a harsh world. We have been called demons and heathens and savages... We do things to our enemies that would make the dead run screaming. The dothraki had been wild, but they could learn. Drogo was young, not so set in his ways. Willing to accept change. He listened.../

She remembered all the times she had been jealous as Ran whispered in Drogo's ears, if she had known that Ran was female then... But she was right, despite being born and raised in such a culture he was willing to listen. Daenerys believed he truly had loved her and maybe would have changed the way of his people had he lived long enough to.

/He was. He had changed I think, maybe he would have lived had he not./

/People here disgust even us. We do not have enough warriors to attack so Bjorn decided he would rather go home empty handed. Maybe we will stop somewhere else on the way there./

So they would have attacked had they had the warriors. Maybe that was why the dothraki had fascinated them so much. Nomad fighters. Traders yes, but warriors too so maybe they did also attack and raid cities. Nothing like the dothraki though. Far too educated and advanced from what she had observed to really be comparable. She was in Ran's arms again before she could feel her move and soft lips on her ear.

/Join me tonight./

This time she didn't resist. Something about seeing Ran in the moonlight, on the edge of the sea made her blood sing. She just wanted something to take her mind off of everything if only for a night. They sneaked in around the bodies of sleeping vikings to a room in the back. The first kiss was soft, gentle. Ran was much taller than her and her body was that of a warrior. Her mind drifted away for the few hours after that until she woke to the sun. Her dragons were asleep by the window. Ran was naked above the covers while Daenerys still shivered in the cold morning air even under blankets. She ran her fingers over every scar she could find... there were many.

/Come with me./

/You're awake./

/Marry me. Come with me to my lands. I can make you happy, you will want for nothing./

She closed her eyes for a moment and thought of it. Ran already loved her children, was not afraid of them. But Daenerys couldn't, she had a goal, a fate. She would take back what was stolen from her!

/You are a woman. I don't even know your full name. I don't know who your parents are. Who you are! You have no army for me to use to take the Iron Throne. I can not marry a merchant./

/We can still have children, as long as we accept them no one will care how. I am the daughter of a cripple and I am Ran. I was named by my father, after the Goddess of the Sea and I am proud of my name. I am proud to be viking. Is that metal chair so important? Can it make you more happy than I?/

The fire woke in her again, Daenerys might not have much but she was a princess. She was the rightful Queen of Westeros. How did Ran, who was nothing, propose to make her happy? She had no title, no army and no way to get Daenerys what was hers by right! How dare she insult her legacy and everything her family had built! She dressed in a hurry and stepped to the door, her dragons awakened by her fury flew to her.

/I am Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen, First of my name, Mother of Dragons and I will take my birthright if I have to burn a thousand cities to the ground!/

Ran was watching her calmly from the bed, a cold fury in her own dragon eyes. Her skin was pale and smooth and her eyes were the stormy sea. Her hair was so dark it shined in the sunlight like the feathers of a raven and the breeze coming through the window made it look like it was floating in water. A goddess of the sea, indeed. But despite how beautiful and smart and kind Ran was, unless she could offer an army it would not matter.

/Be careful, Daenerys, power is dangerous, my grandfather used to say. It attracts the worst and corrupts the best. The mind is a far more powerful weapon than the sword, and while you are busy burning cities to the ground, someone might blow wind in your face and make you choke on the ashes!/

Daenerys stepped out of the room and didn't look back. She paid no attention to the other vikings on the way out, not even Bjorn who looked at her like he knew exactly what was going on. Maybe he did. If he was angry his mistress proposed to her he didn't show it. Ran's last words to her echoed in her head for days. Other words too. Fight. Be strong. Be careful. People lie. They use. The mind is a far better weapon than the sword. Ran could not give her an army but that didn't mean she couldn't teach her how to win one. Daenerys would use her mind and get her army.

***

Ran was still as beautiful as she remembered, standing next to Sansa in Winterfell. There were thick furs around her shoulders. Daenerys was glad Jon was busy hugging his sister Arya or he would be staring or worse, babbling. He did not know how to act around beautiful women.

Sansa was polite but cold and clearly unhappy with her brother's actions. Jon had left to look for allies in defending their borders against Cercei and ended up pledging his kingdom.

/Daenerys./

/Ran... You reached Westeros./

/You got an army... They have grown, I saw them flying earlier./

Sansa was watching them, she looked nothing like the little girl Jon made her out to be. She wondered if Ran was still not afraid of her children now.

/They are not babies anymore and soon we will have the Seven Kingdoms and I will have the Iron Throne./

/Six./

/What?/

/You can have six kingdoms, but not the North./

She was reminded of exactly what Ran thought of her claim to the throne. Of the last words Ran ever told her. You will choke on the ashes. She wondered how Ran proposed to make it happen, if she would really try.

/Jon already.../

/Jon will not be the one to fight you for it./

/Bjorn would give his mistress an army to fight for foreign lands?/

Ran laughed at that. A dangerous laugh that froze the blood in the veins.

/You can have six kingdoms... if you win the war that is./

Daenerys had the feeling that she was missing something...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://isilmelasgalen.tumblr.com/post/612834069432205312/map-for-a-fanfic-i-am-writing
> 
> This is the map I made of how I imagine Westeros and Essos would fit into our world.
> 
> Because of the COVID-19 pandemic we are not supposed to leave home unless absolutely necessary and I found myself writing again. I hope the story is good and that all of you out there reading this are safe and healthy.


	2. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> / _old norse_ /  
> /Common tongue of westeros/

Arya's head hurt and her stomach was rolling. She remembered boarding a ship for Braavos and a huge storm, by the time it had passed the captain was dead and the crew completely lost. They had to have been at sea for about two months but she couldn't be sure. Food had to be rationed but at least a large part of their transport had been cheese. The real problem had been running out of drinking water, fortunately they also transported wine. Dornish wine might be expensive but Arya thought she could live for a century and not want to touch any again. She could feel waves breaking over her feet and drops of ice hit her skin again and again. It took her worn out mind some time to realize that it was raining. She cringed when she opened her eyes and the daylight made her head pound. It was when hands turned her over that she realized what woke her up.

Her sight was blurry but the man looking down at her was dark haired that much she could tell. He wore black leather and yelled something she could not understand. He picked her up easily and she realised being thrown over his shoulder how tall he was. She was too weak to put up much of a fight and as he walked by she saw that there were others on the beach collecting the rest of the crew. The Titan's Daughter was washed ashore and while Arya knew little about ships she didn't need to be an expert to know it would never sail again.

He did not walk long to reach a wall of stone, nowhere close in size to that of Winterfell or King's Landing but still impressive. The gate, she could see as they passed through, was wooden and iron. Inside the houses were made of wood and looked more like they belonged in a poor village than a walled city. There was mud on the ground, it looked to her like there was mud everywhere and she could hear animals as they passed through the streets. Pigs and goats and chickens. She was thrown into what looked like a barn with bars on the windows and twigs twisted through instead of glass. She wondered if she would find even a straw to keep her warm. The others were thrown after her with just as little grace and the door was shut. To say they were in bad shape would have been kind and Arya wondered if any of them would even survive the day.

At some point someone bought them food and water, the only one in any shape to stand and walk to them was Arya. One of the older members of the crew, Stan, had already passed away by then. Not a big loss to her since he had been a bitter old man. The other three with her didn't look like they had much longer. Maybe all the stories her father had told her about the strength of the Starks were not so far stretched after all. She found the taste of the bread too sweet but she had had worse things to eat. Her head stopped throbbing after she ate and drank a little and she was able to walk around the barn. It didn't look like much but it was well build. No rain was leaking through the roof and no mud getting in from the ground. The wind didn't flow between the wood slates of the walls and she would not find an easy escape without making a lot of noise. Not that she had anywhere to run. It got darker outside and she thought maybe night was falling, the cold turned bitter and the rain became snow, she could see the white beautiful flakes dancing through the small window. She was thankful for the skills of those people when the wind started blowing so hard she could hear it whistling outside yet could feel almost nothing in the barn. Two more crew members had already passed away and the last one was well on his way.

She was sitting leaning on a wood beam when the same young man who found her returned. He glanced at the others and then at her before grabbing her arm, dragging her until she stood, she stumbled next to him and to the door as others started coming inside, dragging the bodies into a pile. The one she believed was still alive was checked for breathing before being thrown with the rest. His body was almost completely stiff.

It was freezing outside but at least her clothes had dried and the young man had slowed down so she could more easily follow. She glanced at him, he was pretty. Black hair, blue eyes, strong jaw. Much taller than her father had been with wider shoulders. Joffrey probably dreamed he would grow to look like that one day and it almost made her laugh. As if that cruel impish product of incest could grow up to be so beautiful. They walked to a big building, much larger than the rest and she could see the light of fire inside and hear laughter and voices and clinking of what could only be mugs. The young men turned to open the great doors and she saw the left side of his face. The was a scar, thin and spread from the corner of his mouth to his ear. Like a silver spiderweb on his skin. Yes, Joffrey would never be strong enough to survive such a wound.

The noise died down when they stepped inside. The hall was not as large as that of her home but it was warm. There was a huge fire on the floor... Arya had never seen fires in the middle of the floor. The small windows had glass on them and thick and colorful. She was led through rows of tables and benches, only one on the left, furthest from the door was occupied. Even sitting they were tall. Wearing black leather and fur on their shoulders. Hair was long on both male and female, one men had hair longer than her sister's! Sides shaved and braids intricate and detailed. They turned to look at her, she looked at them too. Some had markings on their skin, even on heads. They were all pale skinned and littered with scars. All eyes looking at her were blue. They were beautiful, much like the young man with the spiderweb scar. She was pushed down on her knees at the end of the room and she growled at the young man who did it. Nymeria would have been proud.

There were stairs before her, she had not noticed while she took in the place. Completely covered in fur, and raised a little higher were two chairs. Made of dark carved wood and covered with bones she would have found them impressive had she not seen the Iron Throne. It was the people there, though, that made her heart freeze. Maybe she was beyond the wall, in the land of Always Winter.

Two men sat on the chairs and a tall woman between them. Arya had always admired warriors. Wanted nothing more than to be one. As a child she would look at people and try to imagine if they were weak or strong, brave or coward, smart or stupid. After a time she started getting it right more often than not, there was something about the way certain people held themselves. Those three were smart, brave and strong. The man on her right beautiful with dark hair and bright green eyes, he could only be, Arya thought, the other man's husband. She knew such things existed, but their laws and their faith frowned upon it, nowhere in Westeros would such a thing be accepted. He had an air about him, she wondered which Great House he was from and how he got to be in this land. It was the man on her left, though, that made her want to shrink and hide. "And his eyes turned blue as she froze his soul and his hair was dark as night. And he ruled for thirteen years. No one was as cruel and no one was as clever and he knew no fear. And they sent him beyond the wall, far into the lands of Always Winter." Sansa used to shiver and hide under her blanket when the old nun told them the stories of the Night King.

/The Night King...The land of Always Winter./

/I do not know what land you speak of. Winter comes every year, it leaves every year./

Her accent was one Arya had never heard before, even in the capital, her r's and l's longer than needed. Her words spoken clearly and rare in a smooth, calm voice. She looked a lot like like him, the Night King, but where his eyes were blue like winter her's were like the night. Dark sky and bright moon... a wolf's moon. Her dark inky hair was swept over a shoulder and reached her hips. The side of her head free and marked in dark curly lines. She was a little older than Sansa would be and Arya wondered if her sister grew to be just as beautiful... or as tall. She wore weapons on her like Sansa had worn jewelry and had the scars of a warrior, Arya felt a pang of jealousy at the sight. The kings, her parents maybe, looked content to let her speak for them.

/Is this Braavos?/

/Kattegat. What is your name?/

Kattegat... Arya had never heard of that, she had never heard of a place where Winter came every year at all.

/Arya./

The girl looked at her before leaning to whisper something to the Night King. Their conversation was short and hushed enough Arya didn't even hear his voice. His piercing eyes never left her as his daughter stood again.

/Braavos is in Essos. This is not Essos./

Land of Always Winter, then... What would the westrosi think if they knew the monsters in their stories were so beautiful the old gods must have carved them with wind from marble? Put the moon and the stars in their eyes, and the sun and the night in their hair? If her sister had known so when she was young would she have been so scared to hide under her blankets or would she have dreamed of one day being queen on their throne instead?

/Am I beyond the wall?/

/Our city is walled./

/No. The Great Wall. The Ice Wall. At the edge of the Seven Kingdoms./

She seemed genuinely confused as if the existence of any other wall was of little importance to her and she didn't understand why Arya would ask of one. She frowned a little, before her face cleared up and she let out a little oh. Her voice was softer when she replied.

/This is not Westeros either./

/Where am I!?/

She looked at Arya with pity in her eyes. Her hand twitched as if she wanted to reach out but she ended up laying it on the shoulder of the man who was or was not the Night King's husband.

/East, little wolf. You are a long way from home.../

East... She was lost. In lands she had never heard of, kneeling in a hall with fire in the middle of the floor. Arya realized she never even learned any of their names but they might know very well all of her's.

***

More than five cycles of the moon had passed since Arya had washed on the shores of Kattegat and in that time she had learned many things. For one, they didn't know who she was, that was how she ended up a slave. If only Sansa could see her now, so far from being a lady. For another Kattegat might not be the land beyond the Wall but in the winter it indeed got very cold and she had thought her fingers might freeze and fall off... They didn't.

She worked around the Great Hall. There were a couple more slaves there that had been bought from Essos, their common tongue was broken and limited but they spoke norse, the language of the new land, well enough. They tried to teach Arya. The only ones that did speak the common tongue, she found, were the princess and the former slave who taught her. It could have been worse she supposed but every day she was loosing hope of ever seeing Winterfell again.

Kattegat turned out not to be a poor city after all. Boats, low and long, came and went every day. Silks, wines, food, silver, jewelry, pottery, glass, iron, fur, wool, wood, spices... anything and everything that could be traded passed through the port. And yet they were not merchants, not really. Vikings, another slave told her. Warriors, rulers of seas. They raided and traided and lived to die in battle. When not wearing dark armor their clothes were bright and colorful, jewelry shining. They were a cheerful people and Kattegat was loud most days. They enjoyed their feasts, their celebrations and when night fell... each other, very much.

And they were skilled, Arya saw, men and women alike. She sneaked out and found some warriors training and sparring once, she had never seen anyone fight like that before, not even The Hound or Jaqen. And free women, the ones who were not slaves, could do as they liked. Girls were encouraged to marry and have children of course but so were boys and no one could force them and they were free to choose. It also didn't mean they had to stop being warriors if that was their choice. How unfair was it that when she finally reached a land where women were free to learn how to fight she ended up a slave, and as such was not free to do anything at all? It made her tighten her fist and clench her teeth to stop from screaming at the gods.

Her duties revolved around the royal family, though they were unlike any of the nobles she had met before. The Night King she learned was named Ivar and his husband, Aethelred. Aethelred was not in fact from any Great House but from a place called Wessex and Ivar was not an immortal king from the down of Westeros. Aelthered was kind enough, polite, but she didn't interact much with him outside of serving their meals in the evening or morning. Ivar, she saw a lot more.

The young slave from Essos who was teaching her norse said he kept her closer because she had tiny hands and it helped with handling the leg braces. It took Arya a week to realise Ivar was a cripple, it was only when he asked her to take the braces off that she did. She wished Bran was there, that he could meet Ivar. She studied them whenever she could, where they were hard metal, where every strap went, how were they made... Though she didn't know how much it would help her brother if he never regained feeling in his legs again. Another slave, an older one who was born in Kattegat explained to her one night in hand gestures and sentences that Arya only understood a few words of another reason he kept her close. She was a young girl from a foreign land and he didn't trust his own men not to want a taste of that. Though his father had outlawed rape in any form neither he nor Ivar had ever managed to change the ways of men and most slaves were still too afraid to ever speak when it did happen. It wasn't so different to be a slave in Kattegat from being a servant in Westeros then.

Ivar was kind, though she knew that he was feared, she saw it in the eyes of the merchants that came to trade but his people loved him, even those who feared him. He caught her trying to flip a knife one evening, when she thought no one would be so early for the meal. She feared he would punish her for not working when he told her to get up from the bench and took the knife from her hand. He didn't. He flipped the knife, then did it slower before giving it back to her. It wasn't a weapon, it a cooking knife she took from the kitchen but he still managed to make it look like child's play. He must have stood there with her for an hour, teaching her how to flip it and throw it. After that he kept showing her things like how to grip a sword, it was different than what she learned before but swords there were different too. How to draw a bow, which she still could not get perfectly. She remembered him hitting her upper arm when she got frustrated once and then doing the same to his own. He somehow got a different bow in his room after that, lighter and more flexible. If anyone noticed him teaching her, no one mentioned it.

It was Ivar and Aelthered's relationship and children that she could still not wrap her head around. The two were, in fact, married. Married in front of their gods and their people! Though Aelthered had used to believe in another god, who was not as accepting, but no one had seen him pray to that god in years. Their children were **their** children! Ran, the eldest, who spoke her language, Baldur, the young man with the spiderweb scar who Arya thought was the same age as Sansa and Eir, the youngest who had not been there the night Arya was made a slave. Eir was her age and training to be a shieldmaden. She looked tiny and delicate compared to her siblings who dwarfed her dark haired and blue eyed figure. There was a strand of hair, from root to her hip, white as the snow.

The rumours were wild and numerous when it came to their birth. Some said they were gifts from gods and that was why they were named after them. Some said they were orphans or found abandoned in the woods and Ivar saved them. There were of course, the wilder tales. They were conceived through magic and born to Aelthered himself. They were wolf cubs they found and enchanted and changed in human skin. They were made from blood and dirt and seafoam and given life through dark magic. The old slave from Kattegat just shook her head at them and smiled.

***

Something heavy landed next to Arya and woke her up from her dreams of home.

/Up, little wolf./

She stood up from where she was sleeping on her fur, the other slaves were stirring though the princess had kept her voice low. Most slaves slept on blankets but Ivar threw the fur at her one day and said to keep it. The winter had hit hard after that and it had kept her warm ever since.

/My lady.../

/Don't call me that. Come, training is starting soon./

/Do you wish me to braid your hair?/

Ran hadn't spoken to her again after that first evening. The only one from the royal family to speak to her was Ivar. Arya knew that the siblings usually helped braid each others hair and now it looked like she had done it herself in a hurry, maybe Eir and Baldur were busy. If there was one thing vikings took pride in it was their appearance. They washed often, and even demanded slaves be clean too, used oils and combed and trimmed their hair and beards. They cared for their skin, wore jewelry and added delicate braded details even on their armor! They matched Cercei in vanity any day. The young warrior gestured towards the object that woke her up and Arya saw a shield.

/No, you're coming with us. The shieldmaiden that is heading the training today is famous for her skills, you don't want to miss it./

Maybe Ran had seen her practice though she didn't know why the princess would care. Maybe it was her excitement.

/I do not have the time. I have help your father with the braces and help prepare and serve the morning meal after that./

Maybe Ivar would teach her something new. Like how to throw axes! It might be a little too dangerous to learn inside though, so maybe not. Then she had to help cook, she hated cooking. At least vikings only ate two meals a day, even the rich ones.

/My father is already welcoming an earl by the dock and said you are coming with us./

/I still have to help with the food./

There were stew and bread left over from the day before and the chef, or so Arya called her, worked miracles with leftovers. The diet in Kattegat was varied but fairly simple and there seemed to be no desserts. She wondered if Sansa would starve in a world with no cakes. In a way it reminded her of the food at home, simple and delicious. It bought a smile to her face to think of it. The princess grabbed her wrist and pulled her up, pushing a heavy sword in her hands.

/Not anymore, he freed you. You were wasted talent in the kitchen he said./

/I'm... free?/

Just like that? Didn't he have to do something... official? He told his daughter to take her to training and that was it? Kattegat really was nothing like Westeros. She should be happy to be free but in truth it scared her. In this foreign land she truly was nothing, where would she sleep, what would she eat? Truth was that Ivar had been kinder to her as a slave than the Lannisters had been to her as a guest. And now he freed her, so she could become a warrior like she wished all her life. She grabbed the shield in a hurry as Ran dragged her away.

/Now get up you are making me late! Torvi is here and I don't want to miss this!/

She sounded worshipful. Arya had heard stories of Ran's strength in battle, they called her the Demon of the North. Who was this woman that made her act like a little girl picking up the axe for the first time? Arya barely kept up with Ran's fast pace, her legs were just not that long!

/Torvi?/

/My aunt, a famous shieldmaiden... She learned from Lagertha./

That name she heard before, hissed and spit out or spoken in such reverie she had assumed Lagertha was one of their gods, they had many.

/Lagertha.../

/The Usurper, the greatest shieldmaiden to ever live. She killed my grandmother./

/And you admire her!?/

They reached the edge of the clearing and Arya could see that it was not only shieldmaidens there waiting for training to start. Baldur was there and Ran dragged her straight to where her siblings sat. Eir ignored them. There were many young men there she saw,mixed with the shieldmaidens. 

/She was a great warrior, but maybe not the best scorned wife. She had faults just like Auslaug did. Just like Ragnar. Just like my parents. Like all humans, but it changed nothing of her skill./

/I could never forgive someone for harming my family./

She tightened her fists in the grass, felt it pass through her fingers cold and wet with dew. She still reapeated her list every night before going to sleep. Still imagined Joffrey's blood warm on her hands and his eyes cold and glassy staring up at her. An arrow to the heart, a knife in the gut. An axe... for his head.

/Forgive her? No, but sometimes we must compromise./

/I will never compromise!/

Baldur looked up from where he was inspecting his shield, He didn't look surprised to see Arya there and her growling at his sister only made him laugh even of he probably didn't understand a word. Eir shushed them, pursing her pouty lips as she strained her neck looking for Torvi's arrival.

/You are young yet, little wolf. You will learn./

Arya didn't believe that, she couldn't allow herself to. There had to be someone, someone worthy. She just had to believe hard enough, she had to...

***

Arya had been free for almost a year, spring was once more coming. Ran had let her stay with the siblings until she could make it on her own and she was almost happy, almost content. Last summer she had gone with them to Wessex and Frankia. It was then that she learned Kattegat was not so much a kingdom as it was a capital.Ivar's lands were wide and spread, though still somewhat independent.

Aelthered's mother was a strong woman, his brother reminded Arya of her father. They loved Ran, Baldur and Eir and Arya saw the devastated look on the old woman's face when she realised her son was not with them. Alfred was a king, though he answered to Ivar. Wessex was much more like the kingdoms of Westeros but Eir told her one evening while they were left alone that Ivar had changed a lot of the laws and that the old faith of the people had faded and The Aesir had not. Arya learned Ivar was a far more tolerant and accepting ruler than Westeros has ever had. If Aegon the Conquerer had been half as great a king, maybe Westeros would be thriving, not dying slowly.

Frankia was ruled by Ivar's cousin, William, who was not as happy to see them as the ruler of Wessex had been. Eir explained to Arya, after seeing her look at a map during a meeting, how far the Scandinavian Empire spread. It bordered to the sea in the north, the west and the south. Westeros was on the map too and Arya perceived for the first time just how vast the sea between the two great masses of land was. Kattegat had control over more than just land but also seas and trading routes. Vikings had settlements everywhere too. From the stories Arya had thought Ivar was a conqueror but it appeared he was not. Not intentionally at least. He had never intended to overthrow the current powers but most ended up pledging to him. Some to stop the raids in their lands, some attacked him and lost. Some because families were complicated in any land. People loved him, to the point thought he was a god. He gave them rights, changed laws, he was the reason they had better trade and better food and less wars. Ivar, Arya realized, was the most dangerous man in the world. And he had enough power to crush an already civil war ridden Westeros. 

Being close to Ran and Eir made her pay more attention to Baldur too. Seeing new lands and learning new things was exciting and he was there and she wanted to live. He was fun and beautiful and made her feel really, really good.

***

Arya looked down at the mead in front of her. Most of the people had left after the feast and only her and Ran remained. The older warrior looked like she was trying to drown herself in ale. Ivar had just announced they would not be raiding that summer either but focus on trade instead. A lot of people had left unhappy.

_/They are restless./_

Ran looked at her from across the table, swirling her drinking horn, her elbow on the table, hand holding her chin. Her eyes unnerved Arya, it was like Ran saw through her, they were wild and untamed. She was restless too, she just didn't show it as much as others, the young Stark realised.

_/Why?/_

_/Because we are viking. We are born with our deaths already written on our souls and we live for that day to come. And all of us want to bath in the glory of battle on the way to Valhalla. Our blood sings for blood! It boils in our veins! Battle is in our bones, war on our skin. Storms guide us and the will of the gods makes us strong. We yearn for the sounds of metal on metal and of screams in our ears... No one wants to die of old age, Arya./_

There was a passion in her voice, the same one Arya remembered in her father's as he told them that Winter was coming. Ran wanted battle as much as all the rest. She had learned of the Norse and the gods over her time in Kattegat and she knew vikings feared not battle nor death.

_/And your father will not allow it. Are you angry at him, is that why you are drinking so much? ...You are too big for a me to carry home you know?/_

It would be a sight for others she was sure, since Ran was as tall as her parents and Arya... was not. Even Eir was taller than her and Eir was still short.

_/My father is more viking than any of us, but he is also a king and must do his best by all of our people. We can not raid our own lands. Two years ago they raided Hispania but it is ours now as are Sicily and Sardinia. The Bizantine Empire swore to my father after you washed on our shores and others followed. We can not raid our allies, our trade is far more valuable in the long run, destroying good relations is not worth it... Ungrateful little bitches, I bet they would like it less if their children were still starving!/_

After being freed she had spent a lot of time with Ran's shield maidens. Most of them were not of Kattegat either she learned but freed slaves as she had been. Some of them had been freed by Ran so they could teach her, mostly the language of their home, like she had learned westrosi from Irel, but not only. How their people fought, what weapons they used, how to build them. Customs, rituals. Faith. It surprised Arya just how much knowledge those girls had and no one had known it. Of course, there had been the one that had made Arya turn red like a berry... how to please a woman. Point was that being from so many places, all strangers in a new land, there was one thing they loved to do. Gossip. And gossip about Ivar was never in short supply much to Ran's dismay. Arya didn't mind them when they giggled about him and the other members of the family but she did listen when they talked about his skills in battle. In war, Ivar was unmatched, and stories of his cruelty had reached lands far away. Ivar the Ruthless, Death of Christianity, Scourge of the world. She still found it hard to see that in the eyes of the man who loved his husband, adored his children and once came to the evening meal nursing a baby goat back to health after a cold winter week. 

_/Surely there are other lands besides those.../_

_/Poor lands... Or distant ones. Preparations for such raids take time./_

There was only one place rich enough and far away on the maps that vikings had not yet reached.

_/Westeros.../_

_/Yes./_

Arya gripped her favourite knife in her hand and straighted her spine. Ran was looking at her as if she didn't know whether to prepare to defend herself or not. There was no accusation in her dark eyes.

_/Do you know who I am?/_

_/Arya./_

As if that was all she ever needed to know about Arya. To vikings titles were only worth something if you earned them she had learned. Still to her it meant something, who she was, where she came from. She threw the knife at a wooden beam behind Ran just as she had done so long ago with Ivar's hand fixing her grip... the viking didn't even flinch.

_/I am Arya Stark of Winterfell! And I swear to you, on my gods and your gods that if you help me free the North, if you help me take my home back, I will make sure your people will return home with all the gold and gems the boats can carry!/_

It took a second for Ran to process her declaration and then she lifted up her horn and grinned. It sent shivers down Arya's spine.

_/Well, then, little wolf, it seems letting you live really was the right choice. Father was right, the gods do favour you. Skaal!/_

***

Arya breathed in the air of her home. The little girl that had left Winterfell so long ago was long gone, she had died somewhere between King's Landing and the Large Sea. But the wolf had survived and now she was back. Back at the gates of Winterfell. She could feel Ran besides her. Arya would make sure the North would only answer to their own, even if it meant making a pact with the devil. Oh, and how Westeros will know the wrath of the demons, she could just smell fear in the air....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://isilmelasgalen.tumblr.com/post/612834202159874048/map-for-a-fanfic
> 
> Ivar's empire as Eir shows it to Arya.
> 
> On the matter of distance between Kattegat and Westeros. I measured the distance between where Kattegat is and where the Three Sisters would be on the map I made with a distance calculator and got something between 3500-3600 miles. The route would include a stop on Iceland. Viking longships had an average speed of 10 knots (11.5 miles/h) and a maximum one of around 15 knots (17.25 miles/h) , as far as I could find. That means an average of 275 miles/day and maximum of 414 miles/day. That means 12 to 13 days on average speed or 8 to 9 on maximum. Adding the break in Iceland and unfavorable weather I would still say no more than 16 days. 
> 
> It took Arya much longer to reach Kattegat, one because the distance was slightly larger, two they were lost and three galley ships are much much heavier and slower. At the speed of around 5 knots( 5.75 miles/h) it would mean 138 miles per day. It would have taken that ship 27 days to sail 3600 miles.


	3. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /common tongue of weateros/

Sansa knew exactly where to look for Arya once she was told of her arrival. Time might pass and cities might fall but some things would never change. Her baby sister had grown. Not so much in height but she wasn't a frail little girl anymore, Sansa could feel the strength under her layers of clothes.

There were many things she wished to say but couldn't find the words. She had done a lot of things she wasn't proud of in her life and the way she had treated her siblings was among the worst. On the darkest nights when she thought she would never see any of them again it had haunted her. But Arya was whole and safe and had forgiven her... and she hadn't come alone.

Shieldmaidens, that was what Arya called the women waiting for her beyond the wall. They were... intriguing. Sansa hadn't had much contact with women that could fight and as a young girl had found it distasteful for a lady to do such a thing. Why would she want to roll around with the boys in the mud? But after seeing Arya fight Brienne she felt awfully proud of her sister, who used knives and a shield as if they were a part of her. And then she joked about learning how to fight from a cripple, will that girl never grow up? Only two of the shieldmaidens spoke the common tongue, Ran, their leader being one of them and as a result didn't interact much with the people of Winterfell. Arya refused to talk of her time away from Westeros so for days Sansa had watched and tried to learn for herself.

Their armor was light and made mostly of leather but there was chainmail added in bits and patches. They wore fur on their shoulders too but Sansa thought that was more for warmth than protection. Their shields were round and wooden, and their weapons many. Bows, swords, knives, axes... She could arm at least three of her own warriors with the sharp objects each of those women wore. Her northman were resourceful, they could make do with just one. Most of the shieldmadens had dark hair and eyes and olive skin. Sansa would have sworn they were dornish but Arya had told her they came from far east, across a large sea. Some of them had lighter brown in their hair and fairer skin, their eyes light grey or greenish brown, one even had brown dots on her nose and cheeks. None of them, she thought, looked at all like Ran. Ran's long hair was dark as a night sky yet her skin milky and flawless unless you counted the silvery thin scars of battle. Her eyes were bright blue, like the ice of winter under the moonlight and where white should have been it looked like clouds of ash had risen into the sky. Her lips were full and a light pink and her cheekbones and jaw strong. There was a little dimple in her chin that Sansa could barely see. Where the others where shorter with fuller curves she was taller than Sansa and lean with a thin waist and long neck. She was so beautiful she looked more like a goddess from her old nun's stories than a soldier to be covered in blood and mud and filth on the battlefield.

Ran avoided eating any of the meat served at meals and Sansa wondered if she should have the cook try and prepare something vegetable based for her. Arya had made it clear that Ran could help them keep the North and that meant Sansa would do anything to make her happy, no matter what it cost her. She would live off of meat alone if Ran didn't want it, even if it would make her stomach turn into a ball of iron. She walked into the library thinking of going to the kitchen before retiring for the night when she startled at the sight of Ran sitting at a table, staring at one of the books by candlelight.

/I didn't mean to startle you, I thought everyone had retired already./

She took her eyes off the book as Sansa walked closer, her hair was falling over her shoulder, it was the first time Sansa was seeing it unbraided and it was so much longer. The dark waves shined in the candlelight.

/What were you doing?/

Sansa pulled out a chair next to Ran and sat down. The shieldmaiden smiled as she pointed to the thick tome on the table. It was old and dusty and she thought her father might have been the last one to pull it off the shelf. It was considered... outdated, since the death of king Robert and the begging of the war of power.

/Arya said this is a book about history. I am afraid I do not understand more than the maps and the banners. I presume the emblem of House Stark is a wolf, the nickname we gave your sister is very fitting indeed./

If she only understood the maps and the banners it could only mean one thing. Still, she had been following something with her finger and Sansa glanced at the book in front of them. It was a map of rivers and lakes down to the smallest. Though Sansa suspected that in such cold only the larger, stronger rivers had still not frozen over.

/You can't read./

/I can read runes and latin and greek and arabic letters but not this writing, no./

When she had been young, really young, before she really knew that boys and girls were not allowed to be the same, that she was born in a man's world, Sansa had wanted to study, learn everything there was to learn. Her mother would find her eating lemon cake under that same table they were sitting at with books she could barely read open around her. But then she grew older and her mother taught her how to sew and braid hair and be a lady and she forgot the old books and their dusty pages. It was too late to cry over eaten cake though, and never too late to learn.

/Do you want to learn?/

/Maybe, when there is time for it. Do you not sleep, Lady Sansa?/

Ran had a beautiful smile, it made her smile in turn.

/About as much as you it would seem. I am still not used to such cold, I didn't think winter would be like this. Or maybe it is the memories it brings that keep me awake./

/ Winter is harsh in my homeland but it comes every year. And I suppose we can at least be certain that it ends every year too, it makes time pass faster.../

What she would not give to know for certain when summer would return... Everyday they gathered more supplies for winter but she still feared it would run out if it lasted too long. Her father had never told her that ruling was so hard, but then again she had been expected to stand next to her husband and smile and not think at all and not stick her nose in war strategies and pray during battle like that would help anyone. A doll for others to use as they saw fit and throw away once too damaged, she would rather die than be that again!

/Arya says you can win this war./

/Arya is a good warrior but she still has much to learn. We could probably not be able to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, it would mean fighting too many enemies on multiple fronts. Or take the Iron Throne since that would mean not returning home but staying here to maintain power instead. Make sure Winterfell remains free, that we can do, I believe./

/Surely you realize less than two dozen warriors can't defeat an army should Cersei attack./

/I thought Arya already talked to you.../

Talk to her? Arya? Clearly Ran had not been told anything about her at all or she would have realised Arya would never tell her anything. After all to her sister she was an untrustworthy selfish bitch who got their father executed and wanted nothing more in life than to be queen. It didn't help that Little Finger knew exactly what Ran appeared to not know.

/She would rather eat her own heart than trust me. Our relationship is not one that has ever been good./

/She told me that you are the most beautiful and smartest person she knows. She is right about the first, prove her right about the second./

Long fingers brushed the hair away from her face. There was an intense look in Ran's eyes that made Sansa's heart stop. A younger Sansa would have blushed, she was not so naive anymore. Ran was the most beautiful being she had ever seen, and maybe she was a good person. But Sansa had been burned before and had no intention of giving anyone else the satisfaction of breaking her more. They would fight and Ran would die or leave for her land across the sea and that would be all between them. She turned her head away from the cold hand and back to the book and it's old pages. They had a war to prepare for.

/Why did you come here with my sister?/

/We would have come here anyway, maybe the gods bought her to us so if I am to join them in Valhalla I may do it having seen you at least once./

There was a glint in Ran's eyes as she spoke of her gods. The line made Sansa bet she thought herself a charmer. Sansa hadn't thought of any gods since she had stopped praying years ago. In the end there had been no gods to help her survive, there were none who could make her forget, only herself. Maybe Ran had better gods.

/Are they kind, your gods?/

Her laugh was clear in the silent castle, she run her fingers through the fire of the candle.

/There are no kind gods, Sansa. Merciful gods can only be so because they are ruthless when they don't forgive. There is a reason they call it the Wrath of Gods./

Yes, that seemed more like the truth.

They were silent for some time, side by side as Sansa took her documents and tried to figure out where they could fit more people should the villagers have to retire to Winterfell. The fortress was old and hadn't been expanded since before the Targaryen conquest but the number of people had grown. Ran continued to study the maps, having stolen paper and ink from Sansa at some point she started copying one of them, a map of fortresses. She was slow and careful and looked unused to holding a feather, once done she turned to Sansa again.

/Show me which lands are enemies on this map./

Sansa took the feather and started circling White Harbor first, then The Twins... Ran would not need the map for herself, she realized, she could have just asked Sansa to show her on the book. No, the map she needed for someone else.

/Do you have more people at your ship?/

/Two hundred and seventy five ships./

Two hundred and seventy five ships! How have they not heard that such an army approached? Where did the even land without causing panic?!

/Where!?/

/We landed at the Three Sisters, out of sight and ready to sail either to the border by sea or Winterfell by river./

So that was why she was looking at rivers, though Sansa thought frozen rivers could not be sailed on anyway. She finished the map, blowing on the ink to dry. Once she was done Ran took another piece of paper and started writing on it, she didn't look practiced.

/And you command this army?/

There was no response but a little smile with sparkling eyes. Sansa watched as she folded the papers together carefully. Maybe she was reporting to her superior, what did Arya even tell them to make them fight for her?

/What did my sister promise you?/

/Glory and gold./

She licked her lips as if the thought of battle made her taste it in the air. It made Sansa shiver. Maybe they had a chance of defeating the enemy after all, now she would just have to find a way to fight the weather and figure out where they were going to get enough gold to make true on her sister's promise.

/I don't know if we will survive the winter... It is so cold.../

/It will not always be cold. The first rain after the snow, the first flower to grow, the first tree to bloom. The first birds to return in the spring, the first bee to wake... It will not always be cold, Sansa./

Sansa rubber her gloved hands together, all the warmth had left her and no matter what she did she never stopped being cold. Not since she had crossed the river with Theon, or jumped in it to flee Winterfell, maybe it got into her bones and froze them. Ran didn't seem affected, her gloves didn't even cover her fingers.

/You speak as if you are sure I will see this magical spring./

/You will... You will see the seas set fire to the storm and out of it great mountains will be born./

As beautiful as that sounded Sansa would be thankful to just see summer again. They turned back to their work, Ran started drawing another map... Sansa was going to need more paper.

***

It was two weeks after their talk in the library that Ran burst into Sansa's room. Sansa was in her nightgown brushing her hair before bed, a candle next to her.

Since Sansa opened up first and spoke to her, Ran seemed to have decided they got along now and kept asking everything and anything about the Seven Kingdoms and the armies and the wars and the lands and the plants and the gods and the bloody lemon cakes! She was insufferable with her stupid smirk and idiotic smooth voice and charming silly self! But she was smart and kind and charismatic. And she had started eating the meat once she realized what Sansa was doing because it made her sick one night. And she had shown her how to use a knife and told her stories of her gods. Sansa found herself wanting to give in, and she didn't even care Ran was a girl.

/I see you decided to prove Arya right about you being smart./

She threw herself on the bed, in armor and boots, wet with melted snow. Sansa remembered the savage look of satisfaction on her face that day when Little Finger fell dead on the floor. She could have sworn the warrior licked her lips at the sight of his blood. 

/Hello to you as well, Ran. Do come in and put your boots on my linens!/

/Hello, princess! So, you and Arya are on speaking terms now?/

/Yes. And she was kind enough to inform me she used to be your slave!/

They had spent the whole night talking. It was the first time Sansa opened up about what happened to her as her sister held her close in her arms. Her eyes were still red from crying and she knew that Ran had noticed but chose not to comment on it. She was angry, in the depths of her soul that her little sister had been a slave, though Arya had assured her that she had been safe. Ran sighted, seeming upset that Sansa was angry at her.

/Technically speaking, my father's slave not mine./

As if that changed anything! But Sansa remembered the way Arya spoke of Ran's family. The reverence in her voice when talking about Ivar. Much as she tried to hate them for having slaves in the first place, she could not ignore what else her sister told her. That she had been treated better as a slave in Kattegat than the commoners were in King's Landing. She walked to the bed and put the candle next to it before laying next to Ran, looking at her ceiling, she remembered every stone and trying to name them all as a child. The reason she chose her parents room for herself wasn't because she liked nice things, but because it had been one of her safe heavens in childhood and she couldn't very well live in the library.

/But he freed her.../

/Yeah./

/Why?/

/It reached a point where she needed more training than the time and space he had available provided./

Right, he had been the one to start training her. Arya said he was a blacksmith, a cripple that made himself braces so he could walk. That his husband was a scholar and that they had two more children. She told her the rumors of how they did it and while as a child she would have been in awe of such tales, Sansa had the feeling Ran and her siblings were bought into the world through more conventional means.

Most, Arya had talked about training. Of Eir, who was her age but so much more skilled at first that she made Arya look like a clumsy idiot. Of Baldur and his endless patience that he couldn't have gotten from either of his parents. Of Ran's skills, the likes of which she's never seen. Sansa wondered if the elven beauty next to her could really defeat The Mountain. Of the shieldmaidens and how they were from so many places, had so many stories... How she never knew before that the world was so big. 

/She said they were all slaves once, your shieldmaidens./

/Not all of them but most, yes.../

Ran had to be important to be able to free so many slaves. Maybe she had high rank in the military, after all one of her shildmaidens had somehow managed to speak to the king and convince him to send his army to fight her war. It didn't explain why she did it though. Ran noticed the lost look on her face and elaborated.

/My mother was a slave, before my father freed her./

/Oh./

So that was how they had children.

/She was... like the sun. Warm, bright, beautiful. Gentle and kind and everything good in the world. When she was pregnant with Eir my brother and I would lie our heads on her belly and she would tell us about how perfect she was going to be. I remember when my sister was born my father had to cover his ears, he couldn't stand the screams. When he first got her into his arms faeder never wanted to let Eir go. Mother threatened to cut his hands off if she didn't get to hold her baby right that moment... I miss her still./

At least it didn't seem like she had no choice, Sansa wondered what had happened to her. Ran had turned on her side and reached for her hand, Sansa pulled away. She could see the hurt on her face from the corner of her eye and decided to share a little bit of herself as well.

/I hated my mother when I was younger. Now I wish she was here with me./

/Why did you hate her?/

/Because she was smarter than me and I thought I knew better. She was right, of course, and I never got to tell her that. I wanted to be a princess, a queen... she wanted me to be happy, but I didn't understand then. I thought I was in love, what a stupid little girl... A horrible child, a worse sister. So many things I wish I had done differently./

Ran turned on her back as well. She was silent for a few minutes as of unsure what to say.

/I was in love once too.../

Maybe he had been a fool, to lose her. Or maybe he was dead by the way her voice sounded so hollow.

/What was he like?/

/She was... entitled. I was the daughter of a cripple, she wanted more than that could offer her./

Her. Of course, Sansa should have realized, Ran didn't make it a secret, what she wanted from her. So she had loved someone of high standing, maybe someone from court since she lived in what Arya had described as the capital. What kind of idiot had that girl been? But then again, wasn't Sansa an idiot too, even if her reasons were different? 

She turned on her side and looked at Ran. She reached slowly, taking her hand in her own. She had no gloves on and her hands were cold and hard, so unlike her own soft ones. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, Ran looked like she was falling asleep, Sansa didn't want her to, not yet.

/Arya really did learn to fight from a cripple, didn't she?/

/Yes. I believe she is working with your brother on making some braces for his legs, like father has. It may not work. My father has weak bones in his legs but they do work. Bran seems to have limited feeling./

When they met, Ran had called Bran a seer and had seemed surprised that he was not blind. Sansa asked him what he saw when he looked at Ran and he told her it was black snow falling on crimson earth. Great beasts and frozen rivers... Since coming home her brother seemed to enjoy speaking in riddles. 

/That's why she didn't want his dagger. She thinks he will walk one day?/

Sansa moved closer, until their heads were on the same pillow. She laid her other hand on Ran's waist, pulling at the clasps to open the armor. The warrior helped her, moving and twisting until she was left in her undergarments and a soft blue shirt... At least her boots were off the bed. She looked thinner with no armor on but Sansa could see the strength of her muscles, there looked to be no fat on her. Not even her belly. There were paintings on her skin, on her upper shoulders disappearing under her shirt. Swirly lines of the side of her head. She traced them with a finger, they appeared to spread on her back too. It looked like art on her body. There were scars, some smaller, some bigger. And a bracelet, that before had been covered, golden and well crafted twisted and braided strings of metal ending with two dragon heads biting on a tiny circle with an intricate symbol inside. Arya had one in similar style but far more simple, a twisted rope of metal with rounded ends. Ran's father was a blacksmith, maybe he had made it for her? If so, he was very skilled and rich if the material was pure gold as it looked. Ran looked at the scars she could see on her as well, her time with Ramsay had not left her unmarked. The warrior didn't seem to mind them. The relief made Sansa hide her face in Ran's shoulder. She just wanted to be close... she was so warm. 

/Aren't you afraid you will die here, so far away from home? Who will tell your fathers what became of you?/

/My fate is written, when I die is not up to me. How I die is. To die in battle is an honour, it is the way to Valhalla, the land of the gods. I would dine with Odin and Thor and Ragnar. And my fathers... They would know that I died well./

Vikings, that was what Arya called them. Kings of the seas, who lived to die in battle. She found didn't want Ran to die. At least if she left for her wild seas Sansa would know she had survived. Her informants had bought news of Cersei preparing an army and of Daenerys Targaryen landing at Dragonstone, war was so close.

/Arya told me of your fathers and choosing your spouse and rights and divorce! Your world sounds so... free./

/Our ways were not always so... openly accepting. It used to be encouraged to marry young, have children. The more the better since so few survived to adulthood. As such, people such as my parents had to marry and breed. Their relationships outside marriage were better not seen nor heard and the spouse had to endure it. Men who were penetrated... well, it could be bad for them if word got out. There were places where it was even worse, like faeder's home lands. Those were the lands where being born female meant you were more an object for males to own than human./

And yet that was not true anymore.

/What changed now?/

/A few kings and queens who were not afraid to piss on the old ways and change the laws./

Westeros could use some of those, she thought. Ran's warmth made her sleepy. She felt the shieldmaiden move and it got darker as the candle was blown out.

/Do you love your king?/

Arya hadn't told her anything about their ruler or what she told him of Westeros. 

/Yes./

/Is he one of those who urinated on the rules?/

Ran snorted.

/Yes, he did most of it./

/People love Jon./

/So I heard./

Maybe Jon could piss on the old rules too. Sansa wanted to see the world Arya told her stories of, if they lived maybe she would.

***

Ran had been in Winterfell for a couple of months, Sansa got used to being warm at night and falling asleep in someone's arms. She remembered the last time she had been truly safe, the night before she left her home all those years ago and the siblings all sneaked in Robb's room for the night. She had been proud and stupid, sleeping in a corner of the bed against Rickon, careful not to touch Arya or Jon. Robb was dead and Rickon too, Bran would never walk again, not even if Arya had somehow learned magic... and Jon, she hoped he was safe. Ran was strong and Arya had assured her, not another Ramsay. Sansa could only hope she would not have the same fate as so many before her, she had lost enough people she cared for. 

Being with Ran was different than anything she had ever experienced before. She had been a little reluctant after what she had experienced to even show Ran her body, let alone sleep with her, but the warrior she came to learn was not a stranger to seduction and thought it took weeks in the end she achieved her goal. By the time her nightgown was pulled off she was so hot and wet and out of her mind she forgot about all the scars she hid under it. It was the first time Sansa had experienced sex without any pain, and she decided it would not be the last. Once they were cooling down next to each other she had had the urge to cover herself again and not only because she was getting cold but Ran wouldn't let her.

/These are not from battle./

/No.../

Not one fought on the battlefield anyway. Even healed and scarred over, she could still feel him touching her skin in her nightmares. Ran woke her up with a hand in her hair and words she didn't understand whispered in her ear when it got bad enough she cried in her sleep.

/Who made them?/

/His name was Ramsay, he was my husband./

/The one you thought you loved?/

No, she had definitely not. She pulled the blankets and furs over them and moved closer to Ran. The viking didn't try to push the covers away again.

/That was Joffrey, the scars he left are on my soul, more than on my skin... Joffrey was my fiancee when we were very young, when the war started things turned sour. My family and his family were on opposite sides. My father was executed for treason, my sister ran away and I was left alone in the capital for them to punish and humiliate every time they felt the Starks and the North needed to be reminded of their place. Once they found someone better suited to be his wife, they married me to his imp uncle. Tyrion had actually been the only one back then to truly care about me. He had been my saving grace and I learned to respect him, even if there had been no love. He never touched me, maybe because I was so young. Littlefinger arranged for Joffrey to be killed at his wedding and for me to look guilty. He pulled me away under the guise of a rescue, he was the one who sold me to the Baltons. The last Stark and a virgin, I had quite the value. Of course, they called it a wedding, an alliance. Ramsay made sure to never touch my face, the rest of me.../

Maybe she should have stayed with Tyrion, but then the North wouldn't be free, would it? She used to believe that people served their kings and queens, she had grown to learn that great kings and queens served their people too.

/Is he alive?/

Ran was trying to contain her rage but Sansa could see it. It made her eyes look darker and turned her voice to silk.

/I fed him to his dogs./

And his screams had been the greatest music. She took a deep breath and pushed thoughts of the past away. She flattened her hand over the drawing above Ran's breasts. They looked loke two animals, turned away from each other and reaching for something on her shoulders.

/What do they mean, the drawings?/

/Skoll and Hati, the giant wolves, chasing the moon and the sun. When Ragnarok comes, they will catch their prey and the stars will die and the world will fall into darkness./

She turned Ran on her stomach and straddled her tights, following the lines on her back with a finger. She felt the viking shudder under her hand.

/And this one?/

/Jormungandr, the world serpent. He grew so large he circled Midgard and bit his own tail. When he releases it, Ragnarok will come./

She kissed the back of Ran's neck, there was a smaller drawing there.

/And this one?/

/Freya's cats. She is the goddess of death, war, gold, beauty, fertility... lust,...sex./

Ran flipped them over, a feral grin on her face. Her eyes were blue like the full moon in the dark sky. Sansa felt her body warm again.

***

Jon had been gone for six months, Arya and Bran had been home for more than five, when Sansa reached word that her older brother was coming home. She had been overjoyed, until she found out what he had done...

The dragons had passed over Winterfell first, she had been with Ran on the wall looking for the army. Sansa found them beautiful but terrifying also, Ran had reached out until one of them brushed her hand with it's tail as it flew above them. Sansa called her crazy and she just laughed.

But she wasn't, she knew them. She knew her, too, their mother. Daenerys, the Queen Across the Sea, who thought Ran was someone's mistress, that she needed someone else to give her an army. Sansa had not seen the army but Arya told her that Ran was their commander, that she would decide if they fought or not and that it was her they would bleed and die for. It was her they followed across the sea. Sansa stayed silent and listened, you learn when you listen.

Entitled. Daenerys was entitled. She thought the world owed her something, that it owed her the Iron Throne. She looked down on Ran, didn't seem to believe the shieldmaiden had the power to back up her warning. That a cripple's daughter could follow through with those words, though it did make her pause for a moment. Daenerys allowed Jon to lead her inside, her head high and smile wide. Sansa didn't even want to look at him, her little sister clinged to his arm and she wondered why Bran had refused to be part of the welcoming party. Maybe he just wanted to avoid the drama. At least she would get to apologize to Tyrion after all, even if a few years too late.

Sansa watched her during the feast, while Ran held her eating utensils so tight it threatened to snap them and her shieldmadens glared with eyes so cold they could have frozen the sea in the summer. Sansa just watched...

She was... pretty, the Dragon Queen. Tiny stature and well defined curves, long blond hair and big bright eyes. Her cheeks looked fuller when she smiled and pink against her pale skin. Sansa could see what fooled Jon... what had fooled Ran.

The people didn't like Daenerys, the nobles of the North. The only time she saw Ran smile that evening was when Lady Lyanna made her displeasure at the situation clear. The shieldmaiden had taken a liking to the young lady, and even invited her to training a couple of times. She was honest, Ran had said. 

Sansa still said nothing as they retired to her room,said nothing as Ran loved her again and again and again. She would have been threatened, maybe, by the presence of someone Ran had once loved, if she had felt that Daenerys saw the viking as anything other than a beautiful face with no value. Her nan had been wrong, dragons didn't know treasure after all.

***

Ran had refused to send her army to attack King's Landing with Daenerys and Jon. Arya had looked at her like she was going crazy, arguing about all the gold in the capital. So that was how she intended to pay them. Ran had not relented.

The Vikings had sailed up the river after Jon left, the water not so frozen that they couldn't break through. The ships were smaller that Sansa thought they would be. Long and fast. Once close to Winterfell they pulled their boats out of the water and carried them inside the walls! There were less warriors than Sansa imagined too, but they were big, strong and well trained. Ran's siblings, Baldur and Eir, were there, and their many cousins. Hali and Asa and Ragnar and Harald and Aethelflaed and so many other names she lost count. Baldur, who spoke a little of the common tongue called it a raiding party and not their army. They must have come from more than one place, like the shieldmaidens, based on their features, pale skin and dark skin and darker skin and dark eyes and green eyes and blue eyes and blond hair and brown and black and long and short. Bright clothes and black clothes and heavy armor and light armor and leather armor... Ran's people stood out among them. They were beautiful. Arya had told her but she hasn't really understood. Sure, Sansa had seen beautiful people before, like Margaery and Loras. Beauty ran in blood, it was what her mother used to tell her. It was different though, to see with her own eyes... Their eyes, Sansa wondered if they glowed in the dark. 

Ran instructed them to set camp and start building defenses, she spent all day either helping or planning. Thankfully vikings provided at least part of their own food and were not picky about where they slept as long as they didn't freeze. Not that with their looks finding available beds was hard. They laid traps in the forest, raised wooden walls between the tree line and the gates. The blacksmiths worked day and night and they were assembling machines. Giant bows with hooked arrows attached to iron chains. 

Daenerys will come for the North, Ran had said. Once she realised the North would follow Sansa instead of Jon and refuse to bow to her, the Dragon Queen would turn on them. 

Sansa hadn't believed so, could not believe that Jon would allow it... It happened. First, news, in the form of Lady Lyanna and her soldiers, reached them that King's Landing fell. The whole city burned to the ground, Sansa had never heard of such devastation before as were described there. The death of her dragon, Rhaegal, caused Daenerys to become truly her father's daughter and in the wake of her rage thousands of corpses remained. Once she sat on the Iron Throne, she turned her eyes North, to Winterfell. Jon could not convince her otherwise, nor was he willing to fight her.

They vikings sacrificed a goat, Ran painted her face with blood and then slid two fingers down Sanaa's face doing the same to her. She didn't understand her lover's word to her people, not beyond the words Odin and Ragnar and Valhalla. She wondered if Ragnar was their king. Viking rituals were wild and dark. Filled with fire and sacrifices and blood and sex. Ran didn't let her sleep until well into the night.

***

Their scouts told them the traps were effective, on the dothraki more than others. While the number of warriors they lost was not large, thousands of horses broke limbs or stepped on sharp objects and had to be put down. 

Sansa was on the wall with the archers when she saw smoke in the distance. The dragons were burning the forest behind them. Bran was in the godswood, praying, she didn't think it would help them much. Arya was down, close to where Ran sat on her horse in front of the army. Baldur and Eir and her family around her. Fenris, her horse, was a beast. A dothraki young stallion that had been all but kept in a cage for months and she could feel his desire to run. Daenerys rode on Drogon, Viserion at her side. Jon was leading the Army, Sansa could see him pleading for her to surrender. She wouldn't, she was a Stark. It mattered not if she wanted to fight her brother or not, she could not let another Ramsay rule the North. She was not a little dove, not anymore.

/Why do you stand in my way, Ran!? Is this not who you taught me to be?! Your lessons bought me here, they put me on the Iron Throne!/

The Queen's scream was full of pain and rage and madness.

/"If I have to burn a thousand cities to the ground." I remember all you taught me, too.../

Sansa had still not asked how Ran knew Daenerys but their words made her wonder. Just how much influence had her lover had on the woman leading a siege on her city?

/ _Odin and Thor and Freya watch us and beat their shield and their sword and their hammer with us! May the Valkaryes fly for us for there is no greater honor that of dying in battle! Ragnar and Bjorn and Halfdan and Harald and all of our great warriors will await for us in golden halls and for the stories of new lands and new raids and new adventures! To Valhalla!/_

Ran's voice carried over the battlefield, loud and clear like thunder in the storm. It made even Sansa's in blood boil and she didn't understand a word. But she did know she would rather go to Valhalla with Ran than live in a city ruled by a mad queen.

Most of the battle was a blur. Ran's war machines kept the dragons at a distance, at least for awhile. The first wave of dothraki didn't even reach the vikings as they raised the wooden wall and scattered their horses. Sansa ordered the archers to fire... They all fell. After that, Sansa lost count of the number that died on her command. She tried to keep track of Arya but lost her around the time the two armies met. Ran was easier to find, first on her horse than on the ground once he was killed. Her face was painted red with blood, her sword was cutting enemies by the dozens. She cut and she dodged and it looked more like she was dancing than fighting. The deadliest dance Sansa had ever seen, leaving splattered blood in circles on the ground. The forest was ablaze behind the fighting armies, clouds of black darkening the sky. Maybe it was Ragnarok, with siblings fighting siblings and the world getting swallowed by night. The snow on the ground was turning red with blood, the sounds of battle went on and on and on...

Daenerys had the numbers on her side but Ran had superior training and strategy on hers. The dothraki horses refused to go through the shield wall. The Unsullied were well trained and had no sense of self perseveration but they were smaller and not as strong as vikings. In the end, not fearing death could not stand against the will to reach Valhalla. Ran's people had superior weapons, superior armor, were stronger, well trained... fearless and it showed. It was slaughter. The westrosi in Daenerys' army were not fairing well either, tired and wary after so many wars to follow a mad ruler again, and Sansa saw them switch sides banner after banner.

She was confident in their victory when she saw Ran latch on to Viserion as he flew over the army, avoiding an arrow. She had two knives lodged in his hide and was using them to climb towards the head. He struggled and twisted and blew fire at her but he could only turn his head so much while flying. It didn't deter the shieldmaiden as she avoided the flames again and again until she was kneeling on his head. They were almost above Sansa... The fighting had stopped, everyone was watching. Drogon screeching as he tried to reach his brother... Daenerys was screaming, reckless as they flew between arrows, no longer avoiding them. Ran pulled out her sword and plunged it into the giant eye. The roar was loud enough to shake the ground, Sansa looked into Ran's beautiful eyes as they both fell in front of her, crashing into the frozen river below. Neither of them came back up. 

Sansa didn't think, didn't wait, she jumped. It was cold and dark, she saw a glint of gold and swam to it. Ran's mouth was open and her eyes closed. She was littered in cuts and burns and bruises. Her glove was stuck in her sword, and it had caused her bracelet to slip free and lower. Sansa pulled on her but she was slack and heavy and the leather would not give. The river was deep and barely any light reached them as Sansa searched for something to cut the straps on the glove. She didn't dare try and pull out the sword for fear the dragon was not as dead as it looked. She found one of the daggers still stuck between scales and pulled it free. By the time she got them both out on bloodied snow, Ran was pale as ice and just as cold. Sansa screamed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone counted that Daenerys had 350 ships so I will take that as reference. By the size of the ship and the number of Unsullied on deck when we are shown one I would say around 100 soldiers per ship. That means 35000 empty spaces for Daenerys to fill with her army. Let's say 8000 of them would be Unsullied, any that she lost in Essos she could replace with the ones who had not completed their training. It would leave 27000 empty spaces for the dothraki. Since they would each take a horse, let's say each horse occupies one space. So 13500 riders in her army which would total at 21500 soldiers in Westeros plus westrosi allies.
> 
> Ran's raiding party has 275 viking longships, with on average 40 people each plus empty space for supplies and the horses. Vikings transported bears on the longships so space should not be a problem. That would make her army around 11000 strong + westrosi allies of the North.( Plus War machines like Ballistas and greek fire and battery rams.) Out of those I would say 4000 vikings which would not be unreasonable with all of Scandinavia united, it's the size of the Great Heathen Army in the show I think. 2000 rus (based on the size of Oleg's army which was much larger). Around 1500 England, Scotland and Ireland, 1500 Frankia and that leaves 1000 of all over. Since norse religion and the viking way of life was spreading with Ivar as king, it would not be hard to believe others from outside Scandinavia would want to raid. With a better quality of life the new generation would be larger, stronger, and eager for adventure. 11000 is not a bad numer considering the population of Europe in the 9th century was about 30 million.
> 
> Westrosi armies. Not as large as some would think. Since I consider the population Westeros to be around 30 million as well maybe a little more, and the size of medival army was not as big as some would like to believe the numbers would not reach hundreds of thousands. After the low quality of life under Targaryen rule and the disasters after Robert's death, a population low in density and plenty of wars decimating both soldiers and civilians alike, I have would say no army would be bigger than 10000. At least not one that could be summoned and moved and provided for on short notice and would be adequately trained and armed. Part of them would die in the last war between Daenerys and Cersei.
> 
> In the battle for Winterfell, Ran would have the 11000 she landed on Westeros with, Daenerys would have less than 21500 since she already fought and lost people. So let's say since she had dragons the losses were not great she would still only have around 18000. The westeosi on that battlefield would be around 15000 to 20000 total, switching sides from Daenerys to Ran at various points. In total there would be less than 50000 soldiers on the battlefield and still one very large battle for the middle ages, historically speaking.
> 
> Here's an article that is very useful when it comes to understanding Westeros:  
> https://medium.com/migration-issues/westeros-is-poorly-designed-3b01cf5cdcaf


	4. Ran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /Common tongue of Westeros and Essos./  
>  _/old norse/_

It was dark and cold. She felt heavy and tired and there were so many screams around her. It didn't feel like Valhalla, she should have gone there, she should have...

She tried to open her eyes but they were sewed shut. Her memories were flashes.

A blond woman, with a gentle smile, singing in a soft voice to a little boy in her arms. Half his face was covered with soft cloth and he was crying so loud...

A man with eyes blue like the sky above, telling her of the gods. He was warm and soft and the boy from before was older, sleeping next to her as he kissed them on the forehead and left.

There was another man, his beard was longer and it scratched her skin as he blew air on her neck. The boy was giggling next to them, rolling in the grass.

They were all together, the woman's belly was full and swollen, the two man were hugging on the bed next to her, all three of them laughing as she and the boy ran around the room.

The blond woman was screaming and blue eyes was covering his ears, scratchy beard pulled her and the boy close as an old woman stood before the bright woman, telling her something. There was so much blood, she had never seen so much blood before.

The baby was cute and had a funny patch of white hair. The boy no longer covered his face, there was a scar like a spider had weaved it's web on his skin. When she looked in the lake, and the water was clear, her eyes were dark and blue.

The woman was laid on a boat and very still. Her and the boy were older but the baby girl was so small, she hoped she would survive the winter. Blue eyes and beard kept them closer at night, it was warm and safe and it smelled like old leather.

She was training, the boy was smaller than her still. Blue eyes looked proud as beard helped them through the movements. Baby girl had lived and was crawling around them. 

She yelled at blue eyes and jumped on the boat. It wasn't an angry yell, she was happy. The boy was pouting next to the two man, he was as taller as her. Baby girl had grown, she looked so much like the blond woman had. The two man waved at her as the boat went away.

She was beautiful, blond and small. A little like the sunny waman had been but younger, softer. She gave her a knife, told her to be strong.

She told them all about the beautiful girl, and the land beyond the sea. The boy and baby girl listened with wide eyes. The two man laughed and shook their heads, they were drinking mead.

The beautiful girl was there again, and she looked tired. She knew she looked different too, she had seen real battle, the two man had been scared and the boy and baby girl had wanted to go too. She asked the blond to come home with her but she said no.

The boy was with her, fighting and he had grown so big. She had grown too. They had lost blue eyes and beard in the chaos of battle. At least baby girl was safe at home.

She was there again, watching the sea. She pulled her away.

They fought, the blond left and she felt like screaming. She wanted something to break. She hoped she never got her stupid chair!

Blue eyes held her as she cried, running his hand through her hair, soothing voice in her ear. It would all be well, it would all be well...

The battle was the worst she had seen, they looked at her to lead. Her horse beat it's hooves, the blood of the sacrifice felt tight on her face... They won, she and the boy lived. There was blood everywhere and they called her the demon.

The wolf girl was strange and reckless. Smaller than baby girl, but yelling about lands far away and gold. She raised her horn.

The lands across the sea were cold, it was winter. Against the white of snow she was a goddess. Her hair was red like fire, eyes green like the forest. She wanted her, wanted the red wolf. She could hear her screaming, and screaming and screaming...

It hurt so bad! Why, why was she in Hel? To hear the screams of others forever, to never rest? Why did Odin not want her? Why had Freya abandoned her? Will her torment never stop, will she forever hear the howl of the wolf she lost? Had the Christian god found her, had he dragged her to eternal damnation? The blood of Odin, to suffer for her perceived sins?

***

/WAKE UP! **RAN! WAKE UP!** Wake up! Please, wake up... Don't go, please don't go.../

Who was screaming? Was it Ragnar? Was he there to take her to Valhalla? She didn't think it was a man... Maybe it was a Valkyrie.

Hands pushed on her chest, it made her already battered body feel on fire. She couldn't even scream as she vomited. Maybe she was rejecting her lungs. Her eyes felt like they were weighted down by Thor's hammer as she opened them. The world was blurry, she saw red hair and bright green eyes. Soft hands cradled her face, the world was eerily silent. Sansa, her mind told her. It was Sansa staring down at her, eyes red and frightened and filled with tears. Sansa who was very much alive. The gods hadn't wanted her, their gates hadn't opened for her... she wasn't dead.

Sansa disappeared from her sight, she could still hear her crying but couldn't move. Hands tugged at her until she was kneeling, her arms twisted and yanked abover shoulder level. They were surrounded by enemies. Drogon was fallen not far away, surrounded by blood, wings pierced by so many harpoons he looked more metal than skin. Viserion, she knew, would never again rise from the bottom of the river. They turned her head by the hair until she was facing Daenerys. She had never before seen a face filled with such rage... or such madness.

/You will curse the day you were born, you will implore for the day you will die!/

She laughed. She didn't fear death, never has. Death was only the beginning. She could feel blood drip from her wounds and her lungs rattle as she looked the Mother of Dragons in the eyes. Eyes she had once loved.

/My death... has already been written... by your hand or by another... It will come, when it will come./

Daenerys stepped closer, she was holding the knife Ran gave her. Her scream carried over the battlefield. No one was fighting anymore, all eyes were on them. She watched the knife as it got closer to her eye. Her father's knife that she stole before her first journey across the sea. Her beautiful father, who loved her, who would mourn her... In his arms she had always been safe... and her faeder who first taught her how to grip a sword with his battered, gentle hands... She would see them again in Valhalla. They would dine and drink with Ragnar and Odin. And the stories they would tell...

/Stop!/

The knife stopped a breath away from her eye. Maybe it was not her time yet. She had drowned and Ran didn't take her. She fell in battle and Odin didn't take her. She stopped breathing and Freya didn't take her. She had thought she had been in Hel but Hela had not come for her. She looked at the knife that had almost reached her, it would seem her fate was to die another day.

There was a hand wrapped around Daenerys' wrist, the man it belonged to was short. Really short and his face heavily scarred. Tyrion, the first husband of Sansa who had been kind to her. She could hear Sansa fall silent, she stopped struggling in the arms of the dothraki holding her, and was watching. She hoped when the time came Tyrion would protect Sansa.

/Her eyes, your grace./

It was always her eyes. When Vatican's forces attacked from one side and her father was fighting Constantinople from another, it was her eyes that made them fear her. The mark of the devil. After her faeder had been hurt in the first battle, as she led their forces against the enemy, it was her eyes that they feared. And after she dragged the Pope back to his city and as she strung his body from his balcony by his ankles, it was her eyes that he saw last.

/What about them?!/

Ran kept her head up. She knew her siblings and the rest of her people were looking for an opening to save her but if they made a move the fighting would start again and all of them knew Daenerys would kill her before anyone reached them. Sansa was in no shape to fight, and she was not a warrior.

/They are The Demons eyes./

/Demons are stories and myths Tyrion!/

Daenerys was becoming impatient with her subject, and she was unhinged to begin with. The woman Ran had met was already dead and the shell in front of her was a ghost.

/Not those demons, The Demon of the North. From the merchants' stories.../

She relaxed her body in the hold of the dothraki. She moved her fingers slowly, it hurt her bones. 

/She's a merchant, I doubt they tell many stories of her./

/Ran, Ivar's daughter, the Demon of the North. A living legend.../

He stepped closer and turned her head to face him. She supposed he could have looked worse, she'd seen far uglier. What kind of stories did merchants tell when drunk, she wondered. He looked at her more in wonder than fear.

/She's a cripples daughter!/

Yes, and it hadn't been enough for her. Ran turned her head free of his hold and used the distraction to rearrange her body. Blood was pooling around her from all the wounds on her body and she almost slipped on it.

/A cripple that can raze Westeros to the ground, and leave Dragon's Bay a hole in the face of a cliff! Ivar the Boneless, King of Kattegat, he's ruthless! He's cunning, he's strong and he has one of the largest armies in the known world! They say he never lost a battle! He cut out the backs of his enemies and pulled out their lungs while they were still breathing! He makes your father burning people alive look tame! How do you suppose you will stop him from avenging his daughter if you kill her now?! Viserion and Rhaegal are dead, Drogon will never fly again that is if he survives and your army has been slaughtered! Do you have any idea what he will do to you?!/

Ran had an idea. She took a deep breath as Daenerys returned to standing before her. It sent her into a caughing fit that made her spit blood out.

/Men like him don't scare me!/

/YOU'VE NEVER MET MEN LIKE HIM!/

She had to give it to him, the man was loyal... and he had guts. Daenerys was so far gone it hurt to look at her. At her side Sansa was looking worse by the minute. Night was falling and it was getting colder, she knew her lover would not be able to stand it much longer, her fur had turned to ice on her. It had started to snow, and the dark smoke still rising from the forest made it look like it was snowing with ashes.

/She killed Viserion! Why? WHY?! He loved you! I know you spent time with them before we left! Why did you kill him?! Why?!/

Daenerys had the knife pointed at her heart and Ran knew it was the only chance she would get. She looked to Sansa, silent and shaking, and tensed her body.

/I loved them./

It took but a blink to rip herself away from the riders holding her and before anyone realised it she had twisted Daenerys' hand around and stabbed her in the heart with the knife. The last thing she saw, as they both fell to the ground was the first girl she ever loved choking as black snow fell around her. Her hair was a halo of silver on dark red earth... and she was choking on ashes.

/And I loved you too.../

It turned dark before sound exploded around her.

***

The first time she woke up she was too tired to do more than move her fingers. She was laying on something soft and covered in warm furs.

The second time she heard voices around her, Eir and Baldur, Sansa...

It was the third time that she opened her eyes. She was in Sansa's room, her lover was asleep next to her. She looked tired, bruises under her eyes and pale. Ran tried to pull the covers over her until they reached her neck. Her whole body felt like she had been used for axe throwing target practice and it hurt to breath. She hated bruised ribs.

_/It's good to see you awake, sister. Baldur was worried./_

Eir, that explained the smell of herbs in the room, her sister might have been mixing them for her. Ran was glad to see her well, the small wound on her forehead looked like it would scar.

_/But you were not?/_

_/No. I know how strong you are... I used to think you hated father./_

Ran took her hand in her own and pulled her in the bed next to her. Sansa didn't even stir, she must have been so tired.

_/Eir.../_

_/I know better now. I remember when you would fight him, when we were young, not even faeder would get involved. You were so headstrong. And then you came back from that trading trip. You didn't tell us about all the things you've seen, didn't tell us if she was there. Never spoke of her again after that. But I remember you both went into their room and we could all hear you crying, and hear him whisper to you. You never fought again after that and I realized that he knew exactly what was wrong while all of us were still wondering if something had happened. It's not that you hated him, the two of you are just so much alike. So yes, I know how strong you are because he is the strongest person I know./_

He was the strongest person they both knew. Ran had always loved her father but that day she realised just how human he was. She had wanted so much to be just like him, he had just wanted her to not make the same mistakes.

_/He told me about Heahmund, that's what he was saying to me that day. That all would be alright./_

_/Heahmund... The famous cristian warrior?/_

Her father still knew his favourite prayer and had his cross in his and faeders room. 

_/The priest who broke his heart./_

_/No. They were friends./_

Oh, her sister was naive. Ran smirked at her.

_/Oh, he did more than just advise father about battle plans./_

_/Ew! Wasn't he old?!/_

The disgust on her face was priceless. 

_/Eir, even I am old to you! And Judith said he was quite easy on the eyes. Experienced in the world of pleasure too, if rumours were to be believed./_

Oh very, very experienced. And very, very talented.

_/I can't believe you talked about father's lover with our grandmother! Is this what you do in England?/_

She turned on her side, her body protested. She could see Eir's cheeks were pink.

_/Not all of us have a talent for healing! ... Heahmund was the one who sent faeder to Kattegat. He's the reason we're here. Even after everything, to this day part of father still loves him. Even after he left with Lagertha.../_

She remembered the pain in his voice, the grief he still held. If Heahmund had returned, even after having been with Lagertha, her father would have forgiven him. Not right away but he would have... He would have forgiven him anything. Ran hadn't been that strong. Eir was wrong, she was not as strong as their father.

_/She tried to kill you, Ran! We had to watch and could do nothing for fear it would bring your death. She was mad!/_

The shout was more hissed than loud.

_/She was human. We all are. It could have been me. It could have been father, in a different life./_

If faeder hadn't been there... Ran had heard the stories. She was older than Eir, knew things, remembered thing, that her sister better remain unaware of. She canged the subject.

_/What happened to Drogo?/_

_/He died, the injuries didn't stop bleeding and he wouldn't let anyone close. He just... pulled her body close and laid there./_

The first time she had seen them they had been so tiny... and they were all gone. Daenerys had been so... innocent. She closed her eyes to blink the tears away... She had been so young!

_/How long was I asleep?/_

_/Three days. They offered her the throne./_

Eir gestured at Sansa, still asleep. Ran smiled, maybe Sansa won the war of power after all.

_/Sansa, Queen of the North./_

_/She didn't answer. Ran, she didn't leave your side, she waited to see if you would wake./_

***

They were getting ready to leave Westeros. Baldur had done a good job of leading while she was asleep. The boats they had been carried inside Winterfell were laid out on the river, loaded with what supplies the North could spare and the gold Arya and Sansa could gather from the richer families. It wasn't as much as she had promised but Ran knew the new alliance they had with the North and South of Westeros was far more valuable. Their losses have been relatively low and she had been happy to note she would return home with all of the family she left with. Maybe more of them, if some of her cousins would have their way. Hali at least seemed to have inherited not only his father's fighting skills but his propensity of sticking his cock in anything that looked his way. Asa had once quiped that he would try to bed a tree if he got drunk enough.

She had been awake for awhile and was healed almost completely having been lucky enough not to die of fever after the battle. Sansa had refused the crown in favour of her younger sister much to the surprise of everyone, including Arya. Her new kingdom would be larger than that of their ancestors was before the Targaryen contest, containing The Vale and the Riverlands who swore fealty to the Crown of the North. 

As Daenerys had died with no heir and no appointed successor, the lords of the South decided to choose their future rulers by election from that point on. Centuries under the thumb of mad rules had made them wary of having no choice in who lead them. King Tyrion, King of the South, it had made Sansa immensely happy, which Ran, newly healed had benefited from.

She looked around her at the council Arya had summoned. 

/I know there are people here worried about a ruler as young as me. You are right to worry, after the times you all endured. My father was a great warrior, and a good man. Everyone loved him. And it lost him his head. I was a cup bearer for Tywin Lannister for some time. Smart, powerful, but overly cruel. Everyone hated him, even his children. It got him an arrow, I hear./

Arya raised her glass to Tyrion, he was watching her with narrowed eyes. Arya was planning something, Ran could tell by the sharp look in her eyes.

/I was fourteen when I washed on the shores of Kattegat. I didn't know the land, I didn't know the language and I had nothing. My name meant nothing. I was no one... A king's slave. For months, I served their food, poured their drink, learned their language, their gods and their people. I learned how to fight, and be Arya with no name, no title and no worth. The people loved him and they feared him and they called him a god. He is kind to his own and ruthless to his enemies. I learned to admire him. And then he freed me, and gave me to his daughter to train. I would say she did a good job, wouldn't you, king Tyrion?/

/Yes, I can attest to that. You are a great warrior, your grace./

/It wasn't easy. As you can tell I'm rather short, she's not. It left me battered and bruised and unable to move. I learned to take the pain and I learned to use my size to my advantage. Her little sister is my age, we get along rather well. She taught me politics, alliances. And the power they hold. Let's drink to the alliance of our three kingdoms, and may it last for many winters to come. Cheers!/

Ran raised the cup with everyone else.

/Skaal!/

It didn't smell like any wine Ran drank before, she took a sip, it was sweet, she was about to drink more, when she heard choking. One of the lords that had been sitting on the side of Arya had fallen off his chair. Everyone was frozen. He was on the older side, long faced with white hair. His wife was even younger than Eir, she fell to her knees where she had been standing at his side, uncomfortable with the attention he kept giving her during Arya's speech.

/Leave one wolf alive and the sheep are never safe./

Arya turned to the wife, still knelling by her dead husband, face caught between relief and anger. 

/When people ask what happened here tell them the North remembers. Tell them winter came for House Frey./

Ran poured her cup on the floor. Sansa was frozen at her side, she took her cup and did the same with it. She didn't think anyone was drinking any of the wine anytime soon. Her father would have been proud, the little wolf had grown up but maybe she could have found a different way to kill the man.

***

The storm had been fierce. Thor had been relentless for days. Ran pulled Sansa close in her arms as the sun rose from the sea, a great ball of fire, she could see Iceland appear between the mist and clouds. Home was getting close.


End file.
